Fill high the glass — a New Year's Toast!
To one who is our city's boast —
Of all her jewels, quite the Gem —
Here's to our charming G. O. M.!
The G. O. M. that England knew
Was grand and wise and manly too,
And strong and powerful, but he
Could never, never, never be
What our dear G. O. M. to us
Has come to mean, for good or " wuss "
(That rhyme is quite ridiculous!) —
With rapier wit and tender heart,
On every side he bears his part, —
With literature and politics
He doth a social glamour mix,
Past master of diplomacy
An adept in Philanthropy —
Who would not drink a New Year's brew,
Dear G. O. M., to such as you! —
But when I dwell upon your gift,
Your gift of gifts, it seems to lift
My thought from social charm and wit,
From epigram with laughter lit,
Or legal eminence, or deep
Desire to have your country reap
From high ideals and strong endeavor
A place within the sun forever. —
Nay, when I think of you, I feel
The dearest gift that you reveal
Is that you never cease to lend
Your finest self to be a friend —
And we who press an eager claim
To call you by that priceless name,
Would have you fully realize
Your friendship is the gift we prize.
Thus, as we drink our New Year's toast, —
The wish, perchance we wish the most,
Is this, — until our journey's end,
That we may claim you as our friend. —
Your friendship is our diadem —
Here's — New Year's joy, dear G. O. M., —